


Flowers on the Window

by errantknightess



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, I will add more tags as it develops, Kid Rapunzel, Loneliness, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons, Slow Build, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantknightess/pseuds/errantknightess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Rapunzel always felt a bit lonely in her tower. Then she met a strange boy who was just as lonely as her.<br/>And then, things changed.</p>
<p>Pointless heap of self-indulgent fluff. Updates once in a blue moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things that go bump in the night

“ _Flower, gleam and glow... Let your power shine_...”

The thin, girlish voice alone lit up the gloomy room almost as well as the soft golden glow that followed. The hairbrush moved smoothly in Gothel's hand, trailing streaks of light behind it like a comet's tail. The singing child sat still on a low stool, her hair flowing all the way down to the floor, meandering there like a river.

The song ended and the warm glow waned, giving way to the dim moonlight that flooded the room and deepened the shadows. Rapunzel got up from the stool and flung herself on the bed, giggling as the mattress made her bounce on the impact.

“I told you time and again not to jump on the bed,” Gothel sighed.  “Beds are not for playing. Now get yourself under the blanket and sleep. And don't go wandering about in the night. You don't want Jack Frost to come nipping at your toes.”

“I don’t?” Rapunzel repeated, still sitting up on the bed, not sleepy at all. Why wouldn’t she want someone to come and visit her, someone besides Mother? Not that there was anything wrong with Mother, of course, but recently she’s been going away for longer and longer, leaving Rapunzel all alone, and sometimes it got pretty boring up in the tower.

“No, Flower. Sleep tight. I love you very much.”

“I love you more!” Rapunzel smiled at this little saying they shared.

“I love you most,” Gothel left the bedroom, drawing the curtain in the doorway. Rapunzel listened until her footsteps faded down the stairs, and jumped out of bed. Barefoot, with the blanket tightly around her back, she made her way to the window, where she rested her arms on the sill, climbing on her toes and turning her head up to the huge silver coin of the full moon.

And then, she waited.

Her toes grew numb after a while, and the hard windowsill disagreed with her elbows, but Rapunzel only shifted slightly and didn't leave her post. The world below was silent, waving with blue shadows and winking to her with the thin crust of frost. She stomped her feet a little and squinted into the darkness. Where was he? Her tiny toes were cold, cold, cold, so she guessed it was time. Mother said he would come, and Mother never lied to her!

Rapunzel wondered what he was like. Did he have very sharp teeth? She looked down at her toes with worry. Would it hurt when he nips at them? Or just tickle? And how will she recognize him at all? Was he a tiny gnome with a huge brush to paint the silver flowers with? Oh, she loved painting! Maybe they could do this together? Or maybe he was a ghost, a white, howling ghost that came rolling down from the mountains with wind and snow, bending the trees and wailing under the roof of her tower? Rapunzel shuddered. She wasn't so sure she wanted to meet him after all.

She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced undecidedly towards her bed, when suddenly something outside whooped and shot up right past her window. Rapunzel jumped and leaned over the sill as far as she could reach, up, up, up on her toes, to look down at the gray and blue forest. But the forest was still again, and the whooping thing was nowhere to be seen. Rapunzel sank back to her feet, her face buried up to her nose in her arms crossed on the windowsill. Maybe it was just a bat? Or a giant owl? No, silly, owls don't whoop like that! Oh, if only she had seen!

Rapunzel sneezed into the bend of her arm and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. Then she remembered Mother would tell her time and again not to do that, so she wiped her nose again with the rim of the blanket. There. If this Jack Frost is going to come at all, he'd better come before she catches a cold, or Mother will keep her in bed for a whole week and certainly won't let her put even one toe out for him to nip at.

The sill and the window frame were now laced with fine, sparkling dust. Rapunzel jerked her head up, berating herself in her thoughts for dozing off. What time was it? She normally didn't stay up so late, only on her birthdays, when the lights went up into the summer sky. But now the sky was clear, just the moon and a couple of stars, which looked somewhat like the lights, but not quite, no matter what Mother said about them. No lights and no more whooping things anywhere in sight. Rapunzel yawned widely, feeling sand under her eyelids. She wiped it away and examined the windowsill closely, just in case there was indeed a gnome with a paintbrush hiding in the corner. She didn't find any. She sighed with disappointment, letting a puffy cloud out of her mouth, and gave the blue world outside one last, longing look.

And that's when she saw a tall, lanky figure rising up against the bright full moon.

Rapunzel bounced up at once and leaned out, her outstretched hands barely reaching the opposite edge of the wide windowsill.

“Hello!” she called cheerfully, and cowered at how loud her greeting sounded in the stillness of the night. “Hello!” she repeated  in a hushed voice, hoping that the lanky figure would still hear her.

It did. At first just a dark shadow on the face of the moon, the figure now drew closer and closer, making its way through the chilly air towards the tower. Rapunzel clenched her hands on the windowsill and observed the flight, squinting at the moonlight burning its white circle onto her eyelids. The figure was now within hand’s reach – well, if it was someone else’s hand, not little Rapunzel’s chubby arm. It hovered wonkily in front of the window, and then, without any warning, toppled forwards and landed on the sill, perching there like a huge, strange pigeon.

Face to face with the stranger, little Rapunzel suddenly remembered everything Mother would tell her time and again about the world Outside and the people who lived out there. It occurred to her she was alone in the dark with this unknown person, and that there was a tight knot in her stomach, as if she ate too much hazelnut soup for supper.

Rapunzel didn’t move an inch, her hands clasped firmly on the sill, her big eyes staring at the newcomer, her little heart pounding fast, fast, fast in her heaving chest. The newcomer didn’t move either, just sat there looking back at her with a small crease between his eyebrows. Rapunzel decided he couldn’t be very dangerous – if he wanted to pounce at her, he should’ve pounced already, right?

“Hello,” she squealed again, much quieter than the last time, and smiled slightly, just in case. From up close, the stranger looked surprisingly human, but Rapunzel knew better. People couldn’t float in the air, could they? She’s never seen Mother do that.

The crease on the stranger’s forehead grew deeper.

“You can see me?” He whispered, though Rapunzel wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or even if this was a question at all. Why wouldn’t she see him? He was sitting just in front of her!

“Well, yes,” she said, still in a very small voice, just in case the stranger didn’t want her answer. But he smiled – a wide smile that allowed Rapunzel to make just sure his teeth weren’t sharp and pointy. She felt a little bolder.

“You can hear me!” The stranger cried, much louder now. He bounced on the windowsill like an excited owl, never taking his amazed eyes off Rapunzel.

“I can,” she admitted, casting a quick glance towards the doorway; she thought the stranger wouldn’t be as happy to find out Mother could hear him too. But no footsteps came, and the curtain didn’t move. Mother must have been fast asleep already.

The stranger shifted and sat more comfortably, leaning forward, propped on a long stick, his legs dangling off the sill. Rapunzel watched him, her head reeling with so many questions she didn’t know which one to ask first: who was he, and why was he so surprised all the time, and how could he fly, and why was his hair so white if he didn’t look old at all, and did he maybe happen to see Jack Frost on his way here, and-- but before she could open her mouth, the stranger raised his hand and with the same puzzled look on his face lightly prodded her right on the tip of the nose.

“Brrrr!” Rapunzel giggled, looking cross-eyed down the stranger’s long pale finger. “Your hands are cold!”

“Sorry,” the stranger quickly took his hand away, but kept his eyes intently on Rapunzel, whose face suddenly lit up with understanding.

“Are _you_ Jack Frost?” she asked, curling her little hands into balls, her eyes almost as big and round as the moon outside.

“Yes!” he gasped, wavering on the sill and grabbing at the window frame to regain his balance.  “Yes, that’s my name! How did you--”

“I knew it!” Rapunzel threw her hands up and bounced happily on the spot. “I knew it! I knew you would come!”

“You knew?” Jack Frost repeated, looking even more confused than before.

“Mother told me--” Rapunzel laughed and stopped short, suddenly remembering another thing Mother told her. She turned to her visitor suspiciously, peeking through wild strands of hair that fell on her face, her hands tucked behind her back.

“Are you…  Are you going to nip at my toes?”

“What?” He looked down at her tiny feet poking from under the laced rim of her nightgown. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Mother told me you would… But it’s quite all right if you don’t want to,” she assured hastily. “I don’t really think I should like to have them nipped at, either.”

“No nipping, then. Glad that we agree,” Jack Frost nodded with a smile and Rapunzel stepped forward, brushing the hair from her face and looking at her guest curiously.

She had to admit, with a pang of disappointment, that Jack Frost looked nothing like she had imagined. Of course, Rapunzel was glad she was wrong about the ghost thing – and the nipping – but looking at the skinny boy in front of her, she found it hard to believe it was the same Frost that caused boulders to crack and birds to freeze in their flight, as Mother would tell her every time the autumn sky let out the first fluffy flakes of snow – not that it ever kept Rapunzel from standing at the window for hours, just looking at them. This was the severe Jack Frost that would bite people’s ears off if they stood in the cold for too long? Rapunzel hesitated. He didn’t seem to be interested in biting her toes, that’s right, but maybe he liked ears better? But he didn’t even have sharp teeth!

And he looked so… normal. No wings or horns, just two arms and two legs, certainly too long and thin for a gnome, but not much unlike her own; one head with a stack of spiky hair on top of it, two eyes, one mouth and one upturned nose  – all in the right place. His clothes were also much like those Rapunzel knew from the pictures in one of her books: a plain white shirt, linen trousers and a loose brown cape, sparkling with a layer of ice in the moonlight.

“What’s it for?” Rapunzel asked, pointing at the staff in Jack’s hands. It was long, curved at the end, and just as everything about him – covered with frost.

“Oh, this?” Jack smiled as if he’s just had a very funny thought. “I’ll show you. Umm… you might want to step back.”

Rapunzel scurried back eagerly as he jumped down from the sill. He raised the staff and lightly tapped on the floor. Rapunzel gasped with delight: on the spot where the staff hit the slabs bloomed a delicate frost fern, growing in the eyes, spreading, budding with still new leaves. Icy thorns branched out and spiraled with a soft cracking, on and on and on, until the floor between Jack and Rapunzel was entirely covered with an intricate glittering pattern. Rapunzel tried to follow it with her eyes, but quickly felt dizzy from all the twists and turns. She could never dream of painting such beautiful flowers with her brushes!

“It’s so pretty!” she said, looking up to Jack in amazement.

“You like it?” he smiled and strolled along the wall, poking the staff around; more ferns sprouted out wherever it touched the stones.

“I love it!” Rapunzel giggled. Then, without much thought, she threw away her blanket and skidded across the glistening floor on her bare feet. It was freezing cold, but so delightfully smooth and slippery! Rapunzel twirled and glided, speeding gracefully through the flat ice garden. She wasn’t quite sure where she got the idea, but suddenly it just felt like a good thing to do – and it felt great!  The dark room was in blur, the moon just a passing smudge of white outside the window. She slid all around the floor, barely keeping herself from laughing out loud, and finally bumped into Jack, who stopped at the far end of the room and watched her, leaning on his staff.

“Come on,” she broke free as soon as he caught her, and grabbed him by the sleeve. “Slide with me!” She let go for a moment to give a massive sneeze, but quickly was at it again, tugging at his cape, her eyes shiny and pleading.

“All right,” Jack’s smile was truly mischievous this time. “Hold on tight!”

He offered her the curved end of the staff and Rapunzel gripped the rough wood as tight as she could. Jack launched onto the ice, pulling her behind him. They whirled together at a dazing speed, round and round and round, until another sneeze veered Rapunzel off course and crash-landed her on the bed.

“That was fun!” she panted, grinning at her guest who sat at the foot with his back pressed against the bedpost, his chest heaving. “Can we do it again sometime? Please!”

“Sure,” Jack got to his feet at once. “Even tomorrow if you want. You don’t get to do much in this tower, do you? You live here?”

“Ever since I can remember,” Rapunzel nodded with a sniff.

“Strange place for a little girl to live in all by herself,” Jack looked around the room.

“Oh, but I’m not all alone here,” Rapunzel protested. “I live with Mother. She leaves quite often, but never for too long. And I have plenty to do here, too! I can paint, and read, and sew, and clean up, and-- achoo!”

“Well, you can add ice-skating to the list,” Jack smiled. “But right now you’d better go to sleep,” he added as Rapunzel spread on the bed and yawned. He picked up the blanket and covered her, leaving tiny icy fingerprints on the soft fabric. He was halfway to the window when he remembered something.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Rapunzel,” she mumbled sleepily and turned on her side.

“Goodnight, Rapunzel,” Jack whispered. “See you around.”

He jumped onto the windowsill and bolted towards the full moon.

 

* * *

"I zaw Jack Frozt lazt night," excited Rapunzel babbled through her stuffy nose. "I saw him, Mother! He waz here!"

"Oh, I can see that very well," Gothel replied calmly, wringing a fresh rug over a bowl of cold water and putting the compress on Rapunzel's damp forehead. “You've caught yourself a fine cold, Flower. What did I tell you about wandering about?”

“I know! You said Jack Frozt would come if I don’t stay in bed, and I wanted to meed him! And he didn’t nip at my toes, Mother, he waz very nice!”

“Rapunzel, what are you talking about? It was just an expression, child, I wasn’t serious! So now it’s my fault that you stayed up all night in the draught and caught that awful cold, is that what you mean?” Gothel frowned and looked down at the sniffing girl.

“No, Mother, you don't undersdand!” Rapunzel cried sitting up, the compress slipping down her face. “I really, really saw him! He waz sooo taaall, and he had this staff, and we--”

“Rapunzel, that's enough,” Gothel's voice sharpened. “You are raving. Blow your nose and finish your soup. And don't get overexcited, you'll worsen your fever.”

“Yes, Mother,” Rapunzel muttered into her hankie between blows. She gulped down the last spoons of the now-cool hazelnut soup, lied down and let Gothel readjust the compress.

“Now go to sleep and don’t pack your head with rubbish,” Gothel stroked Rapunzel’s long hair spread in tangles on the pillow, took the empty plate and left, rubbing her forehead with the other hand.

Rapunzel lied stiffly on her back, her gaze fixed on the beams up above her, cold water from the compress dripping down her temples into her ears. Why wouldn’t Mother believe her? She said herself that Jack Frost would come! Maybe she wasn’t right about the nipping, but that’s all right! Rapunzel took the wet rag off and turned on her side, snuggling her cheek against the cool pillow. She could now see the window and the pale afternoon sky outside. The wind blew in; she felt its gentle touch on her heated face. She closed her eyes and tumbled into a restless dream full of spinning and reeling, and sparkling frost ferns.


	2. The invisible friend

Sure enough, Mother kept her in bed for a whole week – seven days of wet rags, hot soup and handkerchiefs. Little Rapunzel has never before been so glad Mother had insisted so firmly on her learning to embroider handkerchiefs. Rapunzel’s stitches were never neat enough, and her tiny fingers always hurt a lot from the needle, but the innumerable rugged fruits of her efforts, usually stuffed in the lowest drawer, now lied in heaps all around her bed, and Gothel was quite astounded that Rapunzel had managed to make so many – and to use up so many of them in such a short time.

Every time Rapunzel tried to talk to Mother about the night visit, Gothel would sigh and cradle her forehead in one hand as if the subject gave her a severe headache. The idea that someone could simply fly into her room through the window was plain ridiculous, she explained to Rapunzel.

“Think about it, Flower! If anyone could barge into this tower just like that, how would it ever be possible for me to keep you safe? And _that’s_ why we live up here after all, isn’t that right, my dear? Are you trying to say I’m not taking care of you well enough? So anyone can waltz into your room whenever they please?”

It was not at all what little Rapunzel was trying to say, but whatever she _was_ trying to say instead passed unheeded. All the wondrous details of the encounter were invariably put down on a feverish dream. Finally, Rapunzel put Jack Frost on the long list of Things That Were Not Ever Discussed, right between the flying lights and pets.

But she would still look out the window every night, peering at the starry patch of darkness she could see from her bed, and wait. Every time the wind stirred the curtains, or a bird flew by, Rapunzel would sit up on the bed, her eyes lighting up, her mouth already opening to say hello to the long‑expected guest. But every time it was only the wind, only a bird, and Rapunzel’s eyes dulled and her mouth pouted, and she sank back to the pillow, clutching the damp compress till the water trickled through her fingers. Her fever soon reduced and she could climb out of bed, wrapped in the blanket so tight she could hardly move her feet, and come to the window. But no matter how long she stood there, no matter how many times she called his name into the cold air, the forest below would remain still and silent; and Rapunzel would return to bed, shivering and wiping her nose on the sleeve on her nightgown, and just starting to think that maybe Mother was right, as always, that Jack Frost really was just a dream. But the next night she would stay up again, and again, and again. Mother wasn’t too pleased to see Rapunzel sleepily bobbing her head over the plate or the needlework and going about her daily chores with her eyes half-closed.

“What is the matter with you?” She finally asked when she caught Rapunzel taking a nap behind a book she was pretending to read.

“I don’t know, Mother,” Rapunzel yawned in response. “It must be that cold. I’m still not feeling very well.” She didn’t feel very well lying to Mother like that, but Rapunzel decided it wasn’t that far from the truth, after all: she was really, really tired. “May I go to bed?”

“In the middle of the day?” Gothel put her hand on Rapunzel’s forehead and looked at her with suspicion. “You don’t have a fever anymore… All right, go on,” she sighed when Rapunzel coughed convincingly and sniffed for a good measure. “But once you go, you stay there. Understood? No wandering about!”

“Yes, Mother,” Rapunzel nodded and waddled upstairs, looking back at Gothel who sat heavily on a chair and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. Poor Mother! She looked so tired recently, as if she had aged ten years in just a couple of days. I will sing for her tomorrow, Rapunzel decided. She haven’t sung for the whole past week because her throat was sore and her voice came out all raspy, but she will try tomorrow for sure. Mother liked her singing so much! It always made her feel better.

Rapunzel plopped onto her bed and curled up under the blanket, her face turned to the window. The sky outside was clouded, white and empty. Rapunzel closed her eyes and cuddled her cheek against the pillow. She dozed off quickly, half-aware of the wind rustling below in the trees and the sounds of Mother bustling about her chores downstairs. Rapunzel slept lightly, letting the distant droning coil around her mind and lull her, when a new sound crept into her ears, disrupting the steady pattern.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Rapunzel’s eyes sprang open. The white rectangle of the sky was blocked by a familiar lanky figure. Jack Frost sprawled on the sill, looking out at the windy forest and absent-mindedly tapping his staff on the wall.

Rapunzel nearly fell off her bed.

“You’re back!” She squealed and hurried to the window, the blanket tangling around her feet. Jack turned to her and his pensive face lit up immediately.

“Heeey, you’re up,” he said and ruffled her hair. “Why were you sleeping at such an hour?” He added with concern as Rapunzel rubbed away the sand from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she yawned. “I didn’t sleep well at night. And the other night, too. And the one before that. I was waiting for you,” she looked up at him, her tiny fists clenched. “You said you would come!”

“But I did! I did come!” Jack slipped off the sill and crouched before her to meet her eyes. “I came back the next night, just as I said. But you were asleep – and you didn’t look well. You had that rag on your face, and you were tossing and turning… I didn’t want to wake you. And then… ” He flustered and ran his hand through his hair. “Then I went away for a while. But I’m here now,” he smiled.

“Good,” Rapunzel put her fists on her hips, but she smiled back at him. “Because I was starting to think that maybe you weren’t real.”

“Wha--” Jack’s eyes widened, and Rapunzel shrunk at the strange look she saw in them; but it was gone in a blink, and Jack stood up briskly, towering over her. “Not real? _Not real?_ I’ll show you real!” He leapt forward with a comical scowl, grabbed her, and tickled. Rapunzel shrieked in surprise.

“Was that real enough for you?” Jack teased, still tickling. Rapunzel giggled madly and made a half‑hearted attempt to free herself, when suddenly she heard footsteps and a stern voice laced with uncertainty.

“Rapunzel? What are you doing up there? I told you to stay in bed!”

“It’s Mother!” Rapunzel broke free and raced to her bed. “Quick! She can’t see you!”

“I know-- Wait, what?” Jack looked around in panic and ducked, but before he could spot a place to hide, the curtain in the doorway swung open and Gothel stormed in with a broom in her hand and a frown on her face.

“What was that noise?” She asked, looking straight at Rapunzel, who had covered herself with the blanket right up to her nose.

“What noise, Mother?” Rapunzel said sleepily.

“Weren’t you talking just now? I’m sure I heard something.”

“I was just…” Rapunzel trailed off, looking at Jack with the corner of her eye. He was crouching at the side of her bed with his staff across his knees and his back flat to the bedpost. Rapunzel felt her cheeks burn under the blanket as she made up her second lie in the last hour. “I was just thinking if I could have some hot cocoa for supper.”

“Cocoa? Certainly not,” Gothel raised an eyebrow. “You’re ill. You should be drinking broth and milk with garlic. And close that window, for goodness’ sake! You’ll never get better if you sit in the draught all the time!”

Rapunzel held her breath as Mother marched through the room. If she hadn’t noticed Jack yet, she was sure to see him now! But Mother went past the bed, closed the window and turned to Rapunzel, completely oblivious to the boy curled up on the floor right at her feet.

“Go back to sleep. And I don’t want to hear a sound, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother,” Rapunzel muttered from under the blanket. She waited for Gothel to get downstairs and sprang up, choking on muffled laughter and pressing her fist to her mouth.

“She didn’t see you!” She exclaimed in a loud whisper. “She stood right there and she didn’t see you!” Rapunzel bounced on the mattress with delight and leaned over the edge of the bed next to Jack. “Can you believe--“ she stopped short, startled by his expression – the same strange look she saw passing through his face earlier.

“Hey… Are you all right?” Rapunzel crawled off the bed and sat on the floor by his side. Jack put his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, staring vacantly at the wall in front of him.

“Jack?”

Silence.

Rapunzel crossed her legs and leaned against the side of the bed, putting her head on Jack’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while. The wind rustled outside the window.

“I know she couldn’t see me,” Jack said at last, not looking at Rapunzel. “No one can.”

“I can see you,” Rapunzel protested quietly, feeling deep down that it’s a weak argument.

“Yes, I know-- I mean, no one but you. You’re the first person who saw me in-- in years,” Jack turned to her and she sat up, looking back at him, her eyes big with bewilderment.

“It’s been like that ever since I remember,” he sighed and leaned back, fixing his gaze on the ceiling beams. “Nobody could see me, or hear me, or even know that I exist. People walk right through me like I’m not there at all.”

“But you _are_ here!” Rapunzel squeaked. She threw her little arms around him and buried her nose in the folds of his cape. Then she remembered something and started up again, barely keeping herself from laughter when she saw the surprise on his face.

“That’s why you were so confused!” She gasped. “When we first met!”

 Jack nodded. He took his staff and started fidgeting with it, thumbing the gnarled wood and slowly tapping at the wall before him, icy flowers spreading on the stone as he spoke.

“That night… I thought maybe something changed. I thought people could see me at last. I went to check, but… They couldn’t. It was only you,”  he turned to her again, and this time managed a weak smile.

“But why?” Rapunzel asked. “Why can’t they see you? And why _can I_?”

“I don’t know,” Jack sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know.”

“So that’s why you were away,” Rapunzel mused, lying down on her stomach and resting her head on her hands. “Where did you go?”

“First place I could think of,” Jack waved his hand at the window. “There’s a town not too far away. Lots of people live there. It’s… nice. Loud and colourful… And there’s a big castle up high, right in the middle of the island,” he got up and started walking around the room, warming up as he saw Rapunzel hang on his every word, her eyes aglow. “It’s so big you could probably see it from-- well, no, you can’t see it from up here,” he corrected after a quick glance out the window, but Rapunzel was already at the sill, climbing to her toes to get a better view.

“Where is it?” She asked.

“Somewhere out there,” Jack pointed the direction over her shoulder. “Down that valley.”

“That’s where the lights come from!” Rapunzel exclaimed and quickly clasped her hand over her mouth for fear she cried out too loud. “Maybe the people from that town know what they are!”

“What lights?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Every year on my birthday there are flying lights on the sky, right where you showed me!” Rapunzel bounced on the spot with excitement. “Thousands and thousands of them! Haven’t you ever seen?”

“No, not that I remember. When’s your birthday?”

“In June… Oh.” Rapunzel shrunk, feeling very, very silly, but Jack only chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s all right. Maybe I’ll see them one day. They sound like quite a thing.”

Rapunzel hesitated. The world Outside was number one on the list of Things That Were Not Ever Discussed, of course, so she didn’t know much about it – but everything Jack told her now was not in the least like what she’s learned from Mother. Rapunzel’s head reeled. The world Outside was _not_ “nice”… But Jack seemed to like it. Maybe Mother wasn’t talking about this particular town? Rapunzel looked out the window, across the white stretch of forest reaching the horizon far, far away. That’s right, she decided. Mother just didn’t know about the town. She’s probably never been there.

Rapunzel took a deep breath. Mother’s scarce stories about the Outside were fascinating, that’s right, but also sad and scary. Little Rapunzel loved when Mother sat with her by the fireplace to tell them, but she wasn’t sure she liked _them_ all that much. But maybe Jack had some better stories? He certainly saw a lot more than Mother – he could _fly_! Maybe he’s seen some places that weren’t as terrible as Mother said?

“Can you tell me more about that town?” Rapunzel stifled a yawn and tugged at Jack’s cape.

“Sure,” he smiled. “But not now. You should get some sleep at last. I’ll come back tomorrow, all right? And this time, by day. Your mother won’t know I’m here anyway, and I don’t want to keep you up in the middle of the night.”

“But you _will_ come?” Rapunzel demanded. “For sure?”

“For sure,” Jack nodded. “I promise. Back to bed now.”

He waited for Rapunzel to get under the blanket, waved her goodbye and flew out of the room.

Rapunzel curled up in bed with her face to the window, feeling her head swell from everything she saw and heard today. Thoughts swirled and throbbed as she lied with her eyes open, feeling more and more tired from all this swirling and throbbing. Just before she fell fast asleep, one thought leapt out clear from the tangle, lingered for a moment in her mind, and sank back in. Rapunzel smiled as it passed by. She made a friend. A _real_ friend.

No matter what Mother said about him.


	3. Stories and secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took... longer than I expected. At first I was going to update before Christmas, but then real life occurences occured and... welp. Seeing as I'm in the middle of my MA course, it doesn't look like you can expect regular updates for now, but just to make things clear: I'm not abandoning this fic. I hope I'll manage to get some writing done this summer so that I'll have something in store to post as I'll be struggling through my thesis next academic year. We'll see how this works out. I'm really sorry and very, very grateful for every soul that still sticks with this pointless jar of fluff despite all this mess. Enjoy!

The next day Rapunzel woke up fresh as a daisy. Gothel watched with raised eyebrows as she spun around the tower, getting down to all her daily duties with such energy that her feet barely touched the ground. One moment she was upstairs, dusting her bedroom and sneezing even louder than when she had the cold, and in a blink she was already dancing with the broom down in the living room. She helped to wipe the dishes so quickly that they only flashed in her hands, and tried to race with Mother in hanging all the newly washed handkerchiefs, even though she needed a stool to reach the line.

“I see you’re better already,” Gothel observed. “I told you milk with garlic will cure you in no time. Mother knows best!”

“Yes, Mother,” Rapunzel shuddered at the taste that still lingered on her tongue. “I’m feeling much better now. But _you_ don’t look very well,” she added, noticing the bags under Gothel’s eyes and her trembling hands. “You must be very tired, Mother. Sit down and I’ll sing for you, all right?”

“All right, Flower,” Gothel hung the last handkerchief on the line, put the basket away and lounged in the armchair by the fireplace. Rapunzel jumped off the stool and set it down at Mother’s feet. She found the hairbrush in the drawer, sat down and cleared her throat.

“ _Flower, gleam and glow_ …”

The song unfolded, bathing the room in golden light.

Rapunzel closed her eyes, but the soft shine still seeped through her eyelids. She felt gentle tugging at the back of her head as Mother slowly ran the brush through her hair. Rapunzel smiled between verses. She liked those quiet moments when they both sat together – not even looking each other in the eye, each of them lost in her own thoughts, and yet feeling closer than any other time. This was the one part of their daily routine Rapunzel would never grow tired of. Even on their worst days, when Rapunzel would get picky over dinner, or when Mother would scold her for the mess she made with her paints, sooner or later she knew there would be a truce, the stool, the hairbrush, and the song weaving around them, mending the rips like a golden thread and clearing the atmosphere. Mother would then stand up with new energy, offering to bake some cookies, and little Rapunzel would scurry to help her, tripping over her own hair and sprinkling flour everywhere. At times like these, she wanted nothing more than always to be with Mother in the tower, hidden away from those horrible, selfish people who would take these times away from her.

Rapunzel opened her eyes. When the last notes of her song faded, the room felt surprisingly dark and cold in the white winter light filling in through half-curtained windows. Rapunzel turned around on the stool. Mother looked better already; the dark circles under her eyes disappeared and she radiated as though she managed to keep some of the magic light inside her before it went out. Rapunzel sighed quietly, thinking how beautiful Mother was. She wondered if one day she’ll grow up to be as pretty, too.

“What are we going to do now?” Rapunzel asked eagerly. “Maybe I could brush your hair for a change?” She took the hairbrush that Mother set down on the armrest and went around the armchair to reach for her wonderful, shiny black curls. They looked so soft and springy! She’d love to play with them.

“I don’t see why you should,” Gothel leaned away from Rapunzel’s fingers. “My hair is fine. Why don’t you go upstairs and read a book, and I’ll make you some hot cocoa?” She said quickly when Rapunzel groaned with disappointment.

“Or maybe _you_ could read to me,” Rapunzel didn’t want to give up so easily, but Mother already got up from the armchair and headed to the stove to boil the milk.

“Don’t be silly, Rapunzel. You’re a grown-up girl now, you can read for yourself,” Mother grumbled with her head in the cupboard where they kept pots, and Rapunzel knew the discussion was over. With a sigh, she left Mother clattering with the dishes and dragged herself to her room. Halfway through the stairs, she lit up, remembering. She won’t be needing any books this afternoon.

She wondered if Jack liked hot cocoa.

 * * *

Rapunzel sat down on the floor with her legs crossed and picked the book from the nearest shelf, just in case Mother came in unexpected. The book she reached for was a thick encyclopedia of crafts; Rapunzel opened it on a random page and stared at the diagrams, every now and then casting a glance at the open window. The book was a gift she got for her last birthday, shortly after she complained to Mother that she was getting bored of embroidering her handkerchiefs. Since then, Rapunzel has already read it whole a couple of times, and even carried out some of the projects. The encyclopedia contained dozens of instructions for various useful items and ornaments: pottery, knitting, even candle-making. It was great for those long, lonely mornings in the tower when Mother was out to get something for dinner and Rapunzel would sit in the living room, patiently trying to learn something new. Most of the projects were yet too difficult for her little hands, and she usually didn't have the right materials, but if she behaved well enough, it was never too hard to convince Mother to get her some colourful rags or a ball of wool. Crafts were one of the few things Mother approved of, and she seemed pleased with the fact that Rapunzel took to them so eagerly. Of course, she would always grumble about the mess, and she didn’t wear the slippers Rapunzel had knitted for her even once, but at the end of the day, she seemed pleased to see Rapunzel occupy herself like that.

The encyclopedia wasn’t the only book Rapunzel had, nor was it her favourite. High on the shelf stood one of the most treasured things in the tower – a collection of beautifully illustrated fairytales. Rapunzel often wished the world Outside was more like these tales. Maybe then Mother wouldn't be so reluctant to let her out? _That_ world didn’t look dangerous or terrible at all; it was colourful and interesting. Rapunzel wondered at it every time she skimmed through the volume, comparing the things she knew from Mother’s stories with the pictures.

It was these pictures that made her want to learn to paint for the first time. Almost every page was decorated with a drawing in a winding floral border: there were ladies in elegant dresses, stout and bearded warriors, funny animals... Rapunzel remembered the days, not so long ago, when she would sit in Mother’s lap and drink in all those images while Mother’s voice brought them to life. It felt good, almost as good as when she brushed Rapunzel’s hair. Why wouldn’t she do that anymore?

Rapunzel followed the text with her eyes, not taking in any of it, not even bothering to turn the pages, until she heard a light thump above her head.

“What’s _paper- mâché_?” Jack landed on the windowsill and looked over her shoulder. Rapunzel turned around with a start, a wide smile lighting up her face as soon as she saw her friend.

“It’s a pulp from paper and glue,” she explained. “You can make lots of things with it, figures and masks, and flowerpots… but I haven’t tried it yet,” she added with a pout. “I never have any paper. Mother says I would waste it all in a day and it costs too much.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Jack jumped off the sill and waved his staff around, pointing at the walls covered with paintings as far up as little Rapunzel could only reach.

“Do you like them?” she asked shyly as Jack wandered off to take a closer look. She’d asked Mother the same question many times, but Mother would only give her newest masterpiece a short glance before ordering Rapunzel to take off her rainbow-stained dress and hop into the bath to get the paint out of her hair. Meanwhile, Jack studied every painting almost with his nose to the wall, tracing the outlines with his fingers.

“They’re great,” he turned away from a flock of tiny blue birds and took a few steps to the right to examine the flowers climbing along the bedpost. “Hey, these look almost like mine! And is that you?” he pointed to the figure dancing across the opposite wall in a tangle of yellow hair. “It’s just like the real you. How did you learn to paint like that?”

“I looked at the pictures,” Rapunzel climbed on her toes to pull down the fairytale book and opened it on one of the illustrations. “See? It’s all there – birds, and butterflies, and trees, and people, and flowers. There’s an awful lot of flowers here, but they all look the same,” she turned the pages to show Jack the borders. “They’re just different colours. It’s pretty boring. I’d love to see Mother’s herbarium and look at some _real_ flowers, but she won’t let me touch it. She says there’s nothing interesting in it for little girls – but it’s plenty interesting! It’s this thick,” Rapunzel set her thumb and forefinger as far apart as she could, her eyes aglow, “and Mother still puts something new in it every now and then. I can’t imagine how can there be so many different flowers out there!”

“Well, I don’t know much about that,” Jack admitted. “Flowers and frost don’t go well together. I don’t get to see them too often, not before they wilt.”

“Neither do I,” little Rapunzel sighed. “The ones Mother brings are usually dead, and she presses them completely flat, too. Or boils them to drink, or chops them up and squashes them and makes some stinky goo she puts on my bruises when I fall down the stairs. I don’t know why she bothers to do that, because my hair-- um, my hair gets in the way all the time, so I fall down really a lot,” she said quickly, sending Jack a cautious glance. She was _pretty_ sure he wasn’t one of those horrible people Mother always warned her about, and she didn’t think it would do any harm if he knew about what her hair could do, but--

But it was _their_ little secret.

“Of course she would bother,” Jack smiled, completely oblivious to the trip-up. “She’s your mother, she cares about you.”

“Rapunzel!” came a voice from the doorway. “Your cocoa is ready."

Rapunzel started up and trotted to Mother to take a big cup of steaming cocoa from her hands.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Mother warned as Rapunzel’s fingers clenched around the blue handle. Rapunzel took a deep breath and blew on the steam as hard as she could, sprinkling tiny drops of cocoa from the cup.

“Don’t blow on it,” Gothel scolded her. “Wait for it to cool down. And why are your books laying on the floor? Didn’t I teach you to take care of books? Please pick them up this instant.”

“Yes, Mother. Sorry,” Rapunzel set the cup on her bedside table and put the books away. She noticed with a pang of guilt that the fairytales got an ugly crack on the spine. Mother was right, she shouldn’t have left them laying around like that. And now she was sure Mother won’t ever let her see her precious herbarium, or maybe even let her have another book ever again – not if she treats them so carelessly.

Rapunzel turned back to the doorway to promise Mother she will now always take good care of her books just as she taught her, but Mother had already gone back downstairs, drawing the curtain behind her.

“She’s pretty stern, I’ll give her that,” Jack observed, noticing the sudden slouch in Rapunzel’s shoulders and the quiet sigh she let out. “Hey, cheer up. Want me to tell you about that town down in the valley?”

Rapunzel lit up instantly.

“Oh, yes! Yes-- please!” She clasped her hands together and bounced up and down in excitement. “Tell me about it, Jack! I want to know everything!”

“All right, then,” Jack hopped onto the sill and leaned against the window frame, his long legs dangling. “Grab your cocoa and lend me your ears, kid.”

Rapunzel picked her cup from the nightstand and took a huge, wonderfully milky sip, wondering briefly what would Jack need her ears for – he had his own, after all, and quite big ones at that. She picked a pillow from her bed, wandered across the room and sat down on the floor in front of her guest, tilting her head far back so she could see him.

“Would you like some cocoa?” She reached up to offer Jack her cup and hesitated. Would it be all right to give hot cocoa to an ice spirit? Wouldn’t he get sick? Rapunzel felt the nice, heavy warmth of the chocolate in her stomach and shuddered. Surely it wouldn’t make him _melt_ on the inside, would it? She watched her friend carefully take the cup from her and taste the steaming drink. He seemed fine – pleased, even.

“Thank you,” Jack passed the cup back with a smile. “It’s delicious… Why are you laughing?” He frowned in confusion as Rapunzel rolled on her back, giggling. She took a breath to answer, but let it out in a new spasm of laughter as soon as she looked up at him again.

“Wait… Wait,” she managed, heaving herself from the floor and running to the bookshelf to fetch a huge box. Rattling its contents, she ran back to the window and opened the box right before Jack’s face. For a couple of seconds Jack stared, puzzled, at the jumble of paint tubes and brushes, before he noticed a dirty mirror glued on the inside of the lid. His reflection looked back at him, adorned with an absurd chocolaty moustache. Jack snorted, amused.

“You think this is funny? Take a look at yourself,” he teased, turning the box around to reveal an identical frothy brown strip under Rapunzel’s nose. Rapunzel squeaked and buried her face in the pillow to stifle another laugh that would surely prompt Mother to come upstairs. Only when Jack had licked the cocoa from his upper lip did she dare to lift her head.

“We looked like the palace guards with those,” he said as Rapunzel was making herself comfortable on her pillow, ignoring the traces of chocolate left on it.

“The palace guards?” Rapunzel prompted, trying to remember if there was anything about them in her book. She’d read a lot about kings and queens living in palaces and castles, but couldn’t recall any stories about guards.

“Yup. Funny guys. They wear those big brushy wisps on their faces and even bigger ones on their helmets. If you think I looked ridiculous with a moustache, imagine what they look like with two of them.” Jack sprawled on the windowsill, hands behind his head. “They’re decent enough, though. Maybe a little stiff, but it might be that armour of theirs. Must be a real pain in the winter. I once saw a guy’s horse get its tongue frozen onto his breastplate. And of course it’s quite a sight to watch the poor fellows hold onto one another for dear life when the streets get slippery.”

“Streets? I thought the palace guards guard the palace,” Rapunzel observed.

“Oh, they do that all right,” Jack absently drummed his heel against the wall. “But there’s not that much for them to do there. Sure, there’s the king and the queen living there, and the place is full of gold and riches, and then of course there are the crown jewels – believe me, any thief would jump right at them first chance they get – but it doesn’t look like anyone even wants to try. The royal folks hardly ever come out, but when they do, people _adore_ them. You should see the crowd going wild. But mostly they're just shut in that giant, empty palace. It’s a wonder, really. There are halls a hundred times bigger than your room, mirrors from top to bottom and on the ceiling too, with polished floors just _begging_ to slide all around them – but no one ever plays there. I've been there a lot of times and it never changes. The most still, quiet, boring place you can imagine. So yeah, the guards mostly just stand there and look official, and I bet they're over the moon when they can hit the streets. There’s a lot more going on there, I’m telling you. And it’s the best right before Christmas. There’s a candle in every window, huge wreaths of holly on the doors, smooth snow on the rooftops. Every year there’s a great fair – all those narrow, winding streets are packed with stalls selling caramel apples and gingerbreads and stockings and wooden figurines and all kinds of things. Everyone’s busy and kids have snow fights in the streets – though I start at least half of them, I admit. And in the middle of the town there’s a square where they put a giant Christmas tree--”

“What’s a Christmas tree?” Rapunzel almost regretted to chip in; Jack’s story was keeping her mouth agape, eyes open wide and sparkling.

“Right, you wouldn’t know that… I doubt your mother would haul one of these all the way up here,” Jack rubbed the back of his head. “It’s a huge spruce that people cut down and decorate for Christmas. They put paper chains on it, candles and bells, and tiny straw toys, and apples and nuts, and a silver star at the top. It all smells like you wouldn’t believe. And then they dance around it and sing carols all night long. It’s fun.”

“What a strange place!” Rapunzel sighed. She was sure Jack was exaggerating a bit– it all sounded too much like her fairytales, and not like anything Mother would tell her – but the story got her yearning. Rapunzel liked Christmastime, with the smell of mistletoe and holly that Mother gathered then and the sugared cookies they baked together; she liked hanging the stocking she knitted up on the fireplace and finding a small gift in it next morning. Rapunzel knew Mother would never take her to the fair – with all the people it must have been easy to get lost there, or worse – but she wished she could at least ask her to get her a small treat… But then, of course, she would have to explain how did she know about the fair in the first place, and she would be in big, big trouble.

“You make it sound so nice. I’d like to have a Christmas tree in my room.” Suddenly, she bobbed on her pillow, clapping her hands excitedly.

“I _will_ have a Christmas tree in my room!” she laughed, grabbing her paint box and skipping to the dresser in the corner. She dug her heels in and pushed with all her might. The dresser moved an inch with a nasty screech that sent a shiver down her back. She held her breath and listened. A faint pounding of the pestle sounded downstairs. Good. Mother never bothered to come up when she was busy with her herbs. Rapunzel clenched her eyes and pushed again. Two screeches later the dresser revealed a clean blank spot of pinkish wall behind it. Rapunzel wiped her brow and stood there, panting, looking at the dresser with a triumphant smile.

“I won’t be able to dance around it,” she explained to Jack, who just now slid down from the sill to join her, “but it’s as good as I can get, right? And I don’t know any carols, anyway,” she added, already rummaging through her paint box on hands and knees. She dipped the brush in a deep green paint and smeared it on the wall, thick branches sprouting wherever she moved her hand.

“Am I doing it right?” she asked, dotting the green shape with blotches of red and yellow. “Where do I put the candles? Wouldn’t the whole tree burn down if there are candles on the branches?”

“Not if they’re just on the tips,” Jack carefully poked his finger at the fresh paint. “Now put the chains around it—yes, just like that. Perfect!”

“Not yet,” Rapunzel dipped the brush in another jar and dabbed at the wall. A silver spot held out five fine arms and sat atop of the tree, sparkling and glistening.

“Now it’s perfect!” Rapunzel bounced back to look at the painting.

“Looks like the real thing,” Jack nodded with a smile. “Hard to believe you’ve never seen one in your life.”

Rapunzel’s chin quivered.

“Hey, come now,” he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll show you something.”

Jack turned to the window. The glass panes were fogged and thick with frost. He scraped at the white dust, tracing a wobbly outline with his finger.

“I’m not as good at it as you are,” he warned. Rapunzel watched him intently, but no matter how far she would crane her neck, she couldn’t see what he was doing against the milky plain of the sky outside the window.

Jack took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what _exactly_ he was trying to do—and didn’t know if it was going to work—but he concentrated as much as he could and huffed on the pane. The frost stirred. Jack held out his hands with a sinking feeling in his stomach and pulled—slowly, slowly, as if coaxing a wild animal out of its hole – and suddenly there it was, a ghostly shape spinning between his fingers. Rapunzel gasped in amazement.

“Is _this_ what it really looks like?” she whispered as if the delicate figure before her eyes was to shatter if she raised her voice.

“Well, it’s much bigger,” Jack smiled. “And less transparent. And not as white. But besides all that—yes, this is what it looks like.”

Rapunzel’s eyes widened and widened as she took in all the details – all the tiny baubles on the tiny branches, tiny candles burning with tiny flames and the tiny silvery star on the top. The tree spun and sparkled in a swirling haze of snowflakes falling all around it from nowhere until it exploded in a cloud of icy dust.

“Awww,” Rapunzel whimpered, trying to catch some of the fine specks before they melt away. “It was so pretty. Thank you!”

“Maybe one day I’ll show you the real one. What do you say? I know your mother won’t let you go out with an invisible friend, but… maybe I’ll find a way in the meantime… so that people… you know...” He finished lamely.

Rapunzel patted him on the knee.

“You’ll find it, Jack. But… I don’t think Mother would let me go anyway.”

“Oh, she can come with us if she doesn’t want you to go alone. I’m sure she’ll like it.”

“It’s not about that,” Rapunzel shook her head. “I don’t go out at all.”

Jack stared.

“Not at all?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never-ever.”

“Why?” he blurted.

“Mother says it’s too dangerous, and she knows best. She goes out almost every other day and she hates it. There are snakes and bugs in the forest, and poison ivy that gives you blisters if you touch it, and it’s easy to get lost and I wouldn’t like to get lost there!”

“So… You never wanted to go outside?” Jack asked in surprise.

Rapunzel fiddled with the hem of her dress.

“Well… I’ve always wanted to see those summer lights… and I think it would be nice to go to the fair,” she mumbled. “Maybe Mother will let me when I’m older?”

“I’m sure she will,” Jack nodded with new enthusiasm. “And until then, I can drop by and tell you about the world so you can decide where do you want to go when you’re old enough.”

“Yes! Please, do!” Rapunzel laughed and hugged him. Oh, this was great – better than the scary stories Mother would tell her – better even than the fairytales! Now she really wished she had a Christmas tree in her room, because she felt like singing and dancing all around it. She looked at the tree on the wall and her heart sank a bit.

“I think I should better cover it,”

“Yeah… What a pity,” Jack sighed. “Come on, let’s put that dresser back before your mother sees it and starts asking questions.”

They carefully shoved the dresser back in its place. It covered the painting almost perfectly – just the silver star peeked out over the counter. Rapunzel was glad it did. There was something exciting in seeing this little blot and being the only one knowing. The sparkling paint seemed to wink at her in the orange light of the late afternoon. Rapunzel winked back.

_It will be their little secret_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my headcanon that Gothel was a herbalist; for one thing, she had to make a living somehow, and it makes sense that it's how she knew about the magic flower (at the very beginning, before its legend started). So I rolled with it here.


End file.
